I know we hate to see things around here but holy fuck do I hate to see a lame duck 10th after back to back strikes. And with a national title on the line no less. I mean literally rip my heart out of my fucking chest and stomp it on the ground.
People have to remember that bowling brings upon the most raw form of competitive energy known to mankind. It's not like golf where everything changes shot to shot. It's not like baseball in that you're competing directly against your competitor. You don't win because you ran out the clock or got help from a referee. You win because you've mastered the consistent elements better than the rest of the field. It's the same 10 pins. Same alley. Same oil patterns (week to week, obviously) and spotlight and pressure for everyone at each and every frame. The only thing stopping you from your potential is you.
That reminds me. As you're starting to actually realize, it's Bowling Week heading into my Wednesday night championship game in Echo Global Logistic's co-ed league. It's a company league but no one on my team has worked at this company in 8 years. Personally I've never even been in the building. Just your classic hanger-on friend. Having friends with a good bowling league is no different than knowing the guy who owns the boat and or the in-ground pool.
Pictured: a Chicago pool
Point is we're going deep on bowling which brings me back to Del Ballard Junior and that horrific gutter ball.
Obviously there are some gripping losses in sports history. The Falcons blew a 28-3 lead. The Cubs blew a 3-1 NLCS lead. Cody Parkey doesn't really count but if I'm getting mad then you better fucking believe he's coming with me. And don't forget the Frenchie blew a 3-shot lead on the last hole of the '99 Open Championship.
And then there's Del Ballard Junior in the 10th needing a seven, but ending up owing the surrounding lanes a massive round of shots. Normally it takes two gutter balls to get that honor of going to the bar for 16 Jamesons but on the pro-tour you only need one. And Del got it at the worst possible time. If I'm him those shots don't see the light of day. As soon as the bartender slides those over to me, I'm sitting down next to the pool tables and not getting up until I die or the tray sits empty. Whichever comes first.